


five first dates (or maybe six)

by the_ragnarok



Series: out of the darkness we reach [2]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: D/s, Kneeling, M/M, Rope Bondage, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-17 15:39:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18101465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_ragnarok/pseuds/the_ragnarok
Summary: Flufflet sequel to "out of the darkness we reach".





	five first dates (or maybe six)

Their second date is at a fancy chef restaurant, where Harold orders for John in fluent French. John knows French just fine, but it feels good to let Harold take charge this way. John's not picky, and would have eaten whatever it was either way; it turns out delicious, though, and John feels -- cared for.

An odd thing to feel insecure about, and yet. "This doesn't feel like kink," John says, spearing a sliver of meat on his fork.

Harold tilts his head. "Are you not having fun?"

"No, I am. But wouldn't anyone?"

Harold's answering smile is wry. "You'd be surprised. And either way, nobody said kinks had to be rare to be meaningful."

John chews his food and swallows.

Harold drives him home. He kisses John on his doorstep like something out of the fifties, except gay. Leaves John full and sweetly yearning at the same time.

~~

Their third date is pancakes in John's tiny kitchen. Harold insisted on buying the maple syrup himself; John is infatuated enough to be charmed rather than insulted.

"Oh, I don't doubt you could choose an excellent brand," Harold says, when John brings it up. "but it's not cheap, and I prefer-- or is that the issue? Am I being financially controlling?" He blinks at John, concerned. "I know I can be--"

"Generous," John says firmly. "I don't mind, as long as you trust my cooking choices."

"We could go shopping together next time," Harold suggests, and that's their fourth date, wandering through little stores selling delicacies, which they take to the park and have for a picnic.

~~

Their fifth date -- is it? John's not sure if it counts. He's back at the rope workshop, anyway, and Harold asked in advance to tie John up. As though John would say no.

He comes early. Harold is out when he arrives, picking up snacks, but Grace is there. She envelopes John into a hug and says, "I'm so glad to see you!"

"Same here." John squeezes her, a little bit.

When he lets go, he turns around and startles slightly to see Harold behind him. "Hey," John says, voice rusty.

Harold smiles, genuine. "May I also have a hug?" He doesn't reach with his arms until John nods. When John does, though, Harold comes to him immediately. Harold's palm curves around John's nape.

Grace _tsks_. "Such goings-on! I thought this workshop is a safe space." Harold attempts to quell her with a look, but she only laughs.

The workshop itself passes in a haze. They're showing a chest harness, a different one from the harness taught the last time John attended, that has the hands crossed across the chest. Harold has to worm his hands between John's arm and his pec to make the knot, asking permission every time.

"You don't need to ask," John says, exasperated, after the fourth time.

"I'm willing to take your standing consent, but the other riggers shouldn't assume their bottoms' consent, and I need to set an example," Harold says, prim.

Grace lobs another coil of rope at him, and gives them the most blatantly fake-innocent look John has seen this decade. "It looked like you were going to run out, Harold."

Harold points to the two coils of rope next to his feet without words, and continues tying John up as the participants giggle.

~~

For their next date - number five or six, John isn't sure how to count it - Harold brings his ropes to John's house. John makes them tea, and they sit and drink as they discuss what they're going to do. Or perhaps it would be truer to say that Harold discusses while John attempts to have an opinion beyond _Yes, please_.

"I thought perhaps something simple tonight," Harold says. "Tie your hands together and your legs together. If you wanted, we could do it without your shirt, and once you're tied I could touch the more neutral areas - back, shoulders, arms."

John shivers. "I don't mind being naked. I'm used to communal showers. Just as long..." he falters.

"As no sexual touches we haven't agreed on occur, of course. Is that what you meant?"

John nods, wordless and grateful.

He ends up stripping down to his briefs. At Harold's instruction, he sits on the bed and lets Harold tie his lower legs together in a series of rope pulls. "Honestly, this bears more than a little similarity to macrame," Harold says as he pulls the ropes taut. "This is not a criticism, mind you, I like the effect." John does, too.

The tie bringing his forearms together is similar, Harold winding rope in many loops until John's arms are secure together.

It seems like Harold is aiming to put John on his side after that, and John blurts, "I still want to kneel to you." He's afraid the moment he says it, that he'll be found wanting, ridiculous.

Harold's expression is softer than the silk rope. "Of course," he says. "Here, let me help." He aids John in getting to his knees on the bed, Harold standing on the floor next to it.

With John's arms tied as they are, it's easy to put his hands together, like a prayer. "Is that okay?" John feels naked, more naked than just taking his clothes off would warrant. Exposed.

"It's excellent. May I touch you?"

John nods. He closes his eyes and feels Harold's hands warm and heavy on his shoulders. He feels like he's sinking through the bed, the pain in his knees muffled and distant.

Harold takes one hand to pet John's hair. "Whenever you want to move, you have my permission."

John wants to stay until he passes out, but he remembers Harold's earlier admonishment. Harold doesn't want John hurting unless it's Harold's idea. He doesn't think this qualifies. John stays where he is for a few minutes, until the pain becomes insistent. Then with Harold's help he lies down on his back, his head in Harold's lap, Harold sitting with his back to the headboard.

Harold sits with him and pets John's head. John makes a game of trying to kiss Harold's hands whenever they come close enough; Harold plays along, teasing but every so often allowing John to kiss his palms, the tips of his fingers, the instruments which worked on John so beautifully.


End file.
